Rights of Passage
by Riley
Summary: Star of the Guardians. My take on Sagan and Maigrey's rite of initiation and the rights of adulthood it confers
1. Passage

Disclaimer: They all belong to Margaret Weis; I'm just borrowing   
  
  
  


I. Passage   
  


The Academy's spaceport was a tiny, minimal affair; the students were not encouraged to return home, nor to have visitors. 

But even if it had been half the size of the planet, Maigrey would have known exactly where to go. 

She ducked under the wing of the needle-nose spaceplane. "Derek?" 

Derek Sagan turned from the ladder of the plane. "Maigrey." His lips twitched in a slight smile. "I should have known you'd find me." 

"No thanks to _you_." He hadn't told her he was coming--- which was typical. 

She glanced around; they were alone--- which a few years ago would have meant that she'd have flung herself into his arms for a much-needed hug. And that he'd have given it to her. 

Not anymore. She was too old to hug him like a little sister... and, dammit to hell, not old enough for... what she really wanted. At least, not by _his_ lights, damn him to hell. 

She came to stand near him, not quite touching... close enough to feel the heat of his body and smell the musky scent of his skin. Dear _God---_

She cut off that line of thought in a hurry, before he could hear her. "Why are you here?" 

Normally _that_ little remark would have gotten a rise out of him--- of the "Aren't you glad to see me?" variety, which she always took as an invitation to _try_ to demonstrate just how glad she was to see him... and which usually ended with him pushing her off his lap in something of a hurry. 

Not today. He regarded her somberly. "We're to undergo the rite of initiation." 

"What?" That was the _last_ thing she'd expected to hear him say. "You're kidding." He shook his head, sharply, his eyes rebuking her frivolity. "Here--- now?" Nobody had told _her _anything. 

He turned away. "On... the planet of my birth." 

She shuddered at the chill in his words, rested a hand on his arm in reflexive comfort. He went still at her touch, but didn't pull away. 

His arm was warm under her hand, all muscle and bone and sinew under tanned and battle-scarred skin. Absently, she traced the line of a new scar; he shivered slightly under the caress, then drew back abruptly. 

She swallowed, shifted her weight awkwardly. "W-when?" 

He looked back at her. "Right now." He turned back to the plane. "Get packed. I'm leaving in half an hour." 

She mock-glared at him. "Won't do you much good without me." As a mind-linked pair, they had to take their initiation together--- which was why Derek was only undergoing it at age twenty-five. 

His lips twitched in that half-smile of his that did such wonderful-awful things to her insides. "We'll see. You have---" his eyes unfocused for a minute as he consulted his mental clock; she followed the thought and finished with him--- "Twenty-eight minutes and fifty-three seconds." 

He snorted. "Impudence--- now GET!" He pointed in the direction of the dorms. But his eyes were smiling. 

She got, grinning impudently.   
  


****   
  


Derek let her fly copilot--- in fact, let her handle the take-off under his watchful eye. Really a generous gift, she thought, considering the circumstances. 

Then again, bossing her around was probably as much--- and much-needed--- a distraction for him as flying the plane was for her. 

They made the Jump, and Derek leaned back in his seat, staring out the viewport at the rippling darkness of Jumpspace, his eyes and thoughts... elsewhere. Where, she didn't know; he was shutting her out almost coldly. 

Left for all practical purposes to herself in the little cockpit, Maigrey indulged herself in her favorite pastime: staring at Derek. 

Mooning over him, her friend Semele would probably say... except Semele didn't know. Sem didn't much like Derek.... which was probably because Derek was the only human male in either of their experience who didn't fall at Sem's feet the minute she walked into a room. 

Which was a damn good thing... because Maigrey would have knifed _somebody_ if he had. She wasn't sure if it'd be Sem... Derek... or herself. 

But Derek didn't seem much inclined to fall at anybody's feet.... 

Even hers. 

She rested her elbow on the console and her head on her elbow, and studied him. Strong, patrician features, dark eyes and thick soft black hair that he always kept tied back--- _damn him_--- broad, muscled shoulders and no spare flesh to speak of--- 

Her lips twitched, as she remembered a line from an old 2D movie that she and Sem had watched the other night. "'A mind like Aristotle... and a form like mortal sin.'" 

Sagan blinked, coming back to himself. "Eh?" 

She blushed; she hadn't realized she'd spoken aloud. "Nothing." 

The look he gave her said he could guess. She turned away, letting her hair fall over her face to hide her red cheeks. "Derek... what do you think it'll be like?" 

He looked over at her. "The initiation?" 

"What else?" 

He chuckled at the retort, and she felt warm all over. She liked making him laugh. "I have no idea." 

Talk of the initiation reminded her of something _else_. She touched his mind--- just a little "tap" to get his attention. 

He dropped his outermost shield, let her in enough for talking... but not for anything else, to her vast disappointment. 

_Do you remember... a few years ago.... _It was suddenly awfully hard to put her thoughts into words... though she was surprised they weren't coming through all by themselves. 

_What?_ His thoughts radiated impatience. 

Well... actions _did_ speak louder than words. 

She pushed out of her seat quickly, tumbling into his lap before he could realize what she was about. _You made me a promise... on my thirteenth birthday._ She put her arms around his neck and pressed her cheek against his, her heart beating like a drum. _Do you remember what it was?_

She felt him swallow, convulsively... as his arms went around her, apparently of their own accord, cradling her gently, firmly against his chest. _Yes, I remember._ His thoughts were mostly closed to her, but that brief communication was laser-hot. 

She slid a hand into his hair, stroking the soft silky tail at the nape of his neck, playing gently with the thong that held it back. _Are you going to keep it?_

_Of course._ The words were clipped--- a mixture of white-heat and affront that she'd doubt him. _I always keep my promises._

He turned his head slightly, his breath warm on the back of her neck, making her stomach do cartwheels with desire. She rubbed her hand against his shoulder, kneading the knotted muscles. His arm clenched around her. 

_Oh, good---_ She rubbed her cheek against his neck, then turned her head and pressed a line of kisses down his neck to his collar, nuzzled her lips at the opening to his shirt--- 

He pushed her back roughly. _But not now. Not yet._

She swallowed hard; she hadn't really _thought_ he'd let her jump the gun... but it was five days till they got there.... 

_Not until after the initiation._ His tone brooked no argument. He held her eyes with his. _When you're an adult--- you understand me?_

The difference that less than a week was going to make in her maturity seemed really too slight for argument, but she nodded anyway. _All right. If you're going to be that way._

_I am._ He relaxed then, leaning back in the seat, drawing her with him to rest against his chest. He rubbed his cheek in her hair, reached his fingers up to tangle in the loose strands. 

She sighed in contentment, and brought a hand down to rub his chest, feeling the strong hard muscles through his shirt. 

When her fingers brushed over a nipple, he caught her hand sharply, his grip strong enough to bruise. _Enough_. 

_Damn._

_Be patient--- it's only two more days._ His tone was mock- martyred. _Give me your other hand._

She sighed. _Come on, Derek---_ her fingers played over the back of his neck, kneading tense muscles and tangling in the thick soft tail of hair. 

_I don't trust you._ The touch of his mind was amused... but uncompromising. 

_Oh, all right._ Now it was her turn for a martyred sigh, as she brought her arm around, let him clasp her wrists with one hand. His other arm steadied her against his chest, held her safe and steady since she couldn't balance herself. 

As always, she felt a deep rush of pleasure from some dark well inside her--- being essentially helpless in his embrace, utterly dependent on him to hold her and support her. It was a guilty pleasure, but one she couldn't stop craving. 

The quickening of his heartbeat in his chest told her that he enjoyed it too... that and the tight hard warmth she felt under her hips. _There now._ His mind was all white heat, flavored with a touch of humor. _Isn't that better?_

_If you insist---_ She tilted her head back to rest on his shoulder. 

_Oh, I do. I can't trust you to behave yourself, otherwise._He turned his head and pushed her back so that he could brush his mouth against hers. _Like that?_

_You know that._ She leaned into the light kiss--- only to have him pull back. 

_Easy...._ His mind-touch was gentle, soothing... and still scorching. He leaned forward, holding her still, and brushed his mouth over hers again, slowly, then traced his lips along the line of her jaw. 

She leaned into it as much as his firm clasp would allow. This was torture, pure torture, being teased like this--- 

_How do you think I feel?_ The sense of his mind was amused on the surface, hiding a deeper truth. His lips found her earlobe, teased gently. 

_I'm not the one making you wait._ She leaned her head into the caress, caught her breath as his teeth stroked sensitive skin. 

His only answer was a soft chuckle. 

And then for a long time he held her helpless and brushed kisses over her face and throat while she trembled in his arms and tried not to cry with delicious painful pleasure. 

And finally he pressed his mouth to hers in earnest and let her kiss him with all the hunger she'd held back. Let her stroke his lips with hers and devour them. And for the first time, when she opened her mouth on his, he didn't draw back at once. And she stroked his lips with her tongue and cried out softly when he yielded to her and let her devour his mouth greedily while his tongue gently explored her lips. 

And that was enough. Barely, but it was enough. 

For now.   
  


******   
  


Ship's morning; Maigrey slithered down the ladder to the cockpit. 

Derek didn't glance up. "Strap in--- we're coming out of Jump in---" that abstracted look; as usual, she recited with him--- "one minute and fourteen seconds." 

Normally that would have gotten her at least a long-suffering look; this time, Derek didn't even seem to notice. She strapped herself into the copilot's chair and studied him worriedly--- enough so that she didn't even linger over his half-open collar. 

His eyes were sunken and hollow, like burnt-out cinders; she was willing to bet he hadn't slept, though his mind was closed to her. He looked about ten years older than he had when she'd gone to bed last night. His lips were pressed tightly together, though his hands on the controls were steady. 

The reason for that change came up on their screen a minute later as the ship dropped out of Jumpspace and into real-time. 

The planet of his birth... which she'd never heard him call his homeworld. Much less his home. 

"Want me to---" she asked, intending to offer to do the landing, like she had the takeoff. He could use the distraction. 

And truth to tell, she wouldn't mind chasing the butterflies out of her stomach. 

He shook his head. "I'll manage." His tone was clipped, harsh. 

She sat back in her seat, watching, heartsick, as he brought the plane down with customary efficiency and lifeless hollow eyes. 

For the first time since she'd hit puberty, she wanted to curl up in his lap for reasons _other_ than sensual. 

Because she was scared, dammit--- scared for him, because he looked so hurt and alone. And scared for them both, because God alone knew what the ceremony was going to bring. 

Their plane skimmed over the surface of a planet that was nothing but barren waste. Maigrey had seen some deserts that were beautiful--- there were parts of her homeworld that were desert--- but this wasn't. It was desolate, ugly, forbidding. She was grateful it was planetary night--- she wouldn't want to see this place in the daytime. 

Maigrey snuck a glance at Derek. _This_ was where he'd spent the first twelve years of his life. 

Her heart wanted to break. 

Derek brought the plane to rest in front of a spare, beautiful building rising up from the desert like an aesthetic oasis. Pale stone walls swept in a graceful line to a series of strong clean points above shimmering windows. The building should have looked out of place here, yet somehow it fit. 

Derek's mind touched hers. _The cathedral._

And, though she knew she wasn't meant to hear it, she caught the undertone of his thought: _Where my parents... came together._

She shuddered at the dark and bitter thread rippling and twisting in his mind. 

He wished they hadn't. That was the essence of it. 

She unhooked her harness and came to stand behind him, rested her hands on the back of his chair. Not touching, but letting him know wordlessly that she at least was glad he existed. 

He tensed when she moved, relaxed a little when her hands only rested on his chair. 

After a long moment, his hand came up and covered hers, warm and strong and solid... and grateful. 

She covered his hand with her other one and held on. And for a long moment they stayed that way, taking comfort from each other. 

Finally he spoke. "We'd best... go in."   
  


*****   
  
  
  


Sagan had never been in the cathedral before. His twelve years here had been spent in the Abbey--- 

He fought a spasmodic shudder. At least they weren't going _there_... at least Maigrey would never have to see--- 

He cut off that line of thought before she _did_ see, through his mind. She had the uncanny ability to see through him, always.... 

He turned his eyes from the vaulted ceiling and shimmering light to watch as Maigrey poked about, curious as a cat. 

"Little wildcat": that had been his pet name for her when they were younger. He'd stopped using it once it became apparent that the nature of their relationship was about to change... so to speak. 

She was scared, he could feel the near-panic rippling in her mind... scared and trying to bury it, to impress him. 

He fought a smile... one tinged with old pain. Amazing, really, that she should care--- 

He watched her, letting his thoughts sink into the safe and peaceful place he only found in her presence. Watched the unconscious lithesome grace of her walk and the sweep of her hair, the way the light from the votives caught the inner light of large intense grey eyes. 

He was happy watching her. Which in itself was reason enough to love her. 

She turned back to him, finally, came to his side. Her mind touched his--- welcome warmth that said he wasn't... _alone_. _What now?_

_We wait._

She nodded, silently, and came to huddle near him, shivering, her hands tucked into her crossed arms. _It's cold._ She came from a warm planet, and had never really gotten used to true cold, for all she loved spaceflight. 

_It always is here, at night._ He remembered too many times of curling in on himself in the darkness, trying to find a little warmth, a little... safety. 

She tilted her head up at him. _Your bedroom was always cold._

He couldn't suppress a smile at the memory her words called up: six-year-old Maigrey, climbing eleven stories' worth of dormitory wall to his window. _You didn't have to come._

_Oh yes I did._ Her words brooked no argument. 

It had always amazed him, that she wanted to be with him. The first time he could remember being happy was when she clambered up into his lap like he was her personal property, and fell asleep in his arms, cuddling close. 

She was the first person who'd ever touched him gently. Who'd ever been kind. 

_I missed you,_ she continued the thought. Then, more softly, _I still miss you, when you're away._

Unbidden image of a cold empty bed and how much she missed nestling into his warm, sheltering arm. They'd shared a bed enough, when they were children--- no reason not. And every reason to, when it made her happy and she kept his nightmares away. Unlike now.... 

He sighed softly. _Come here._ And held out his arms to her. _I can still keep you warm._

She looked up at him in amazement for a second--- then flung herself into his embrace, for all the world like the child she had been. 

He wrapped his arms about her, tucked her against his chest, and let her burrow in close. _There... warm now?_

_Mmmmmmm._ Soft, contented sound, that all was right with her world. 

He relaxed. She was happy; he'd made her so. That was how it was supposed to be. 

After all, what other possible purpose could there be for his existence? 

A sound made him start; Maigrey's head came up from his chest. _What---_

_I'll see._ Automatically, he stepped around her, moving her behind him--- and ignoring her muted mental snarl of protest, that she could take care of herself, thanks very much--- "Who's there?" he asked aloud, his voice harsh and out of place in the stillness. 

A shudder went through him at that sound, that thought. His back still bore the scars from times he'd spoken too loudly in childhood. 

He'd been safe from that at the Academy. Safe in the _Fleet_, for God's sake, where a commanding voice was an _asset_. He'd thought he'd put that time out of his memory--- 

The memory redoubled at the sound of a low, muted voice. "Are you Derek Sagan?" 

"Yes." He lowered his voice automatically, then wished he hadn't. It put him at a disadvantage--- but he couldn't help it. Old training died hard, especially the sort gotten at the end of a whip. 

"And your companion--- Maigrey Morianna?" 

Maigrey stepped forward, ignoring his warning. "I am." 

A robed and hooded figure stepped forward from the darkness around the confessionals. "I am Brother Utilus." Sagan felt his lips twitch: "helpful" indeed. And no one he remembered. Very good. "The two of you are to accompany me." 

Sagan felt a fist clench round his heart. "Where?" 

Brother Utilus looked startled. "To the Abbey of St. Francis, of course--- weren't you told?" 

Of course not. No one in the Order ever told him anything... except the one thing he hadn't wanted to know. But all he said was, "No." And tried to fight the flood of sick horror in his stomach. 

That place. He'd thought when he was eighteen that he'd escaped forever. Escaped into a world where he had a purpose... and something that made him happy. 

Both of which were embodied in the slim womanchild standing just behind him. 

God... that she should see what his life had been.... 

The brother nodded, resigned. "Well, done _is_ done--- though I presume you weren't told of the other restrictions?" 

His throat went tight; it was Maigrey who spoke for them. "'Other restrictions'?" 

Brother Utilus dropped his eyes, as was proper when speaking to a woman. "You, young lady, are to wear a monk's robe, so that the rest of the brethren may remain unaware of the woman in their midst---" 

"Unaware?" Sagan's voice was louder than he intended. 

The brother's calm, quiet eyes turned to him. "Only those involved with the rite are to know of your presence with the walls." 

Sagan felt a tension go out of him he hadn't known was there. This Brother Utilus would undoubtedly be the one to perform the ceremony, given that level of secrecy--- and they could leave without having to deal with anyone from his past. 

His father... or Brother Castus. 

Maigrey flickered a troubled glance up at him, then back to the monk. "All right," she said. "Anything else?" 

Her tone was rather too flippant for his liking. He rested a cautionary hand on her shoulder, squeezed, not gently. She flicked a hard look at him, but subsided, drawing near to him. 

Of course: she was still cold. 

The brother glanced at Sagan's hand on Maigrey's shoulder; Sagan tensed himself for a rebuke. 

But Utilus only smiled. "You are not to speak to anyone, nor to discuss what you see of the monastery with outsiders. None of the laity should learn that we have allowed a woman within our walls even for a such a sacred purpose." 

Sagan felt his lips twist bitterly. Of course not. Then people might suspect more... incidents... like the circumstances of his birth. 

The brother came forward. "Here are the robes for the young lady---" He held out the coarse monk's robe, a little awkwardly; as a sworn celibate, Utilus was bound to avoid all possible contact with women. 

Maigrey's laughter chimed in his mind. 

Frowning, he took the robes from Brother Utilus, handed them to Maigrey with a stern admonition to _Behave yourself._ She took the robes with dignity and the chastisement with her usual impudent _Spoilsport_. 

He wasn't sure if the shimmy she used to wiggle herself into the robes was intended to annoy Utilus... or him. 

The three of them slipped on their breathing apparatus, and then he and Maigrey followed Brother Helpful into the night.   
  


*****   
  


The cathedral was only a hundred yards away... but the walk seemed to take forever. 

Derek's mind was closed to her, frighteningly shut to her tentative touch. 

Damn, she shouldn't have played those games with him. Not now. 

Not going into this place. For this purpose. 

Which thought started the butterflies in her stomach again... only now they'd upgraded to heavy cruisers, at least a fleet's worth. 

The wind threatened to knock her off her feet, cutting under her robes with its chill breath. She stumbled. 

Derek caught her, pulled her close and drew her to his side, sheltering her from the wind. She looked up at him, never mind it was a futile gesture in the darkness. _Thanks_. 

_Of course._ He never said, You're welcome, like a normal person. Just that, Of course, like of course he'd do something she'd thank him for. 

She was glad he couldn't see her glare in the dark. 

Because she was sure he was upset enough already. She'd felt him jump when he'd heard they were going to the Abbey. Not a good jump either, like _she'd_ have done if they were going to her father's fortress--- going _home._

Derek never used the word "home". 

Seeing the ugly grey shape of the monastery squatting in the distance, she understood why. 

You couldn't call that dark and forbidding lump a _home_. 

She edged closer to him, suddenly wishing she could take back all the teasing and the pestering and the unthinking selfish assumptions she'd always made about him. That of course he would be happy to put up with anything she wanted--- because _she_ loved _him_. 

Seeing that--- _prison_--- loom up in the distance made her wish she'd been so much nicer to him all along. 

Even as she wondered what somebody who grew up in a place like _that_ would consider "nice". 

As if in answer to her thought, Derek looked down at her. _Are you all right?_

She shivered, felt guilty for imposing her little fears on him. _I'm fine._ Then, belatedly realizing that she had a chance to _try_ to make things all right, _And you?_

For a moment, she thought he was going to shut her out right then and there. 

Then, slowly, his hand slid down, caught hers and held it firmly. His fingers were warm and strong and deeply, deeply reassuring. _Just fine._

On that note, they reached the Abbey doors.   
  


*****   
  


As soon as they went through the doors, Derek dropped her hand; she'd expected that. They were, after all, in a house of God. 

The place where he grew up. She couldn't forbear trying to get a sense of it in quick glances from under her hood. 

It was cold here, like outside, and dark but for the torches on the walls. And silent, dead-silent; their boots on the stone floor sounded all out of place in the stillness. 

Cold and dark and silent. She understood now, why Derek was... the way he was. 

God, what a place... what a place to be a child. He wouldn't have ever run, or laughed, or played. She was sure of it. This wasn't a place where you did those things. Even if you were a child and playing was supposed to be your job. 

This wasn't a place where anyone could ever be happy. 

She crept closer to Derek. He gave no sign that he'd noticed, his eyes focused straight ahead, unseeing. He could probably walk these corridors with his eyes closed and not miss a step. 

_Where are we going?_ she asked, more to be saying something than because she really cared. And in the next breath cursed herself for bothering him. 

He flicked a glance down at her, but his expression wasn't at all cross--- rather surprising. _To the chapel, I'd imagine. _His mind-voice was curiously neutral, blank. 

And his words brought back the memory of _why_ they were here... which started her shaking all over. 

_Hush._ His hand found hers again, gently. _Everyone goes through this, Maigrey. At least---_ a heartbeat's pause--- _at least we get to do it together._

She relaxed. He was right. 

And there wasn't anything they couldn't face together. 

She tightened her grip on his hand, saw the play of light and shadow on his face as he smiled slightly at her touch. 

And then they stopped before a pair of double doors, and her stomach lurched. 

The chapel.   
  


*****   
  


The monk left them there, in darkness and silence. 

_What do we do?_ Maigrey kept even her mindvoice quiet. 

Derek's thought was like an anchor in a storm. _We go in._

He pushed on the doors, and she crept in behind him, grateful beyond words that he was here with her. She couldn't do this without him. 

The chapel was all darkness and silence. _What now?_

Derek's thought had a certain frustrated air to it. _I don't know any better than you do._

Reflex supplied the retort before conscious thought could take over. _You know everything else--- why not?_

The mental equivalent of a long-suffering--- and grudgingly amused--- sigh was her only answer. 

A voice resounded in the darkness, startling them both. "Kneel." 

Maigrey shuddered violently at the command. _DEREK!---_

_Just _do_ it_. His mindvoice was harsh. 

Shivering, she dropped to her knees, felt him bend himself into the posture rather more gracefully. His devotions were a good bit more frequent than hers. 

The voice, rasping and hoarse, reached them again. "Stretch out your hands." 

Maigrey reached out, jerked back as her hand encountered something rough and scratchy. 

Derek's thought--- _It's only cloth!_--- touched her mind a second before the voice said, "Take the robes. Strip off your clothes, and put them on." 

Maigrey picked up the robes with a shaking hand, started to get to her feet--- wobbled as her knees gave out. 

For the second time that night, Derek's strong hand supported her. _Enough!_ His thought was sharp with disapproval... but underneath she felt his own fear. 

She relaxed a little. If it made Derek feel better to yell at her, then it was okay. He needed it more than she did. 

Besides, his hand on her arm was comfort enough. 

At _that_ thought--- he removed his hand, quickly. Damn. 

She started to slither out of the monk's robe--- got tangled in the sleeves. 

Derek, sighing audibly, helped her. _Damn it, girl!_

_I'm sorry!_ Her own thoughts were shrill with tension. 

She heard him take a deep breath. _We're both on edge._ As close to an apology as she'd get from him in _this_ lifetime. She smiled, feeling a _little_ better. 

His thoughts touched hers again, this time with a hint of wry humor... and an electric undercurrent. _I trust you can manage the rest?_

Which reminded her that, for a moment at least, they'd be naked beside each other... and of his promise to her. _This time._

He cut off contact posthaste--- but not before she felt the white heat her words called up in him. 

She took a deep breath. If they could just get through this.... 

She stripped off her clothing, felt/heard the little movements beside her that said he was doing the same. She could feel the warmth of his body so near hers, the combination of thrill and comfort--- 

_Let's get on with this, shall we?_ His thought was rough, impatient... but she felt the reason for his impatience underneath and had to smother a grin. 

_Okay_. She slipped the robe on over her head, heard him do the same. 

The voice spoke again. "Come forward." 

Moving hesitantly in the darkness, she did so. He did. A few steps later, Derek's hand brushed hers in wordless invitation. She took it, clung. 

A candle flared, revealing a circle of salt, an altar covered in a black cloth, and a priest, robed and hooded. 

The priest threw his hood back. 

Beside her, Derek started violently, his face going pale. His hand on hers clenched convulsively, then dropped like she'd burned him. 

Maigrey flickered a thought toward his mind, intending to ask--- 

His thoughts answered her question--- as her own eyes found the answer. 

The monk's face was stern, harsh, with clean patrician featured and dark, penetrating eyes. His hair, long and dark, was tied back in a simple tail. His frame beneath the robes was all muscle and bone, not an ounce of spare flesh on him. 

Like his son. 

Maigrey stayed very still, not wanting to intrude any more than she could help. This was between Derek and his father. 

A father who--- she knew in that instant--- he thought hated him. 

Looking up at him, she didn't see the young starpilot, the warrior she admired... the man she loved and wanted to distraction. She didn't even see the older boy she'd worshiped as a little girl. She saw a scared, hurt little child... who didn't expect anything. Except maybe pain. 

Oh, God. Oh, dear, merciful God--- if You _are_ merciful, which I'm beginning to doubt. Poor Derek. 

The priest's voice was harsh from disuse--- at least, she _hoped_ it was only disuse. "Say nothing." The words were probably just part of the ceremony, meant for them both, but Derek trembled as at a rebuke. "Your thoughts turn inward and outward." The priest gestured, a little stiffly, with his hands. "Within, you look to yourselves... and to each other." Thank you. "Without, to the Creator... and to each other." 

Interesting juxtaposition. She'd ponder it another time. Right now, she was just glad of the excuse to touch Derek's mind. 

He caught her half-hesitant strand of thought like a lifeline, though he kept most of his mind hidden from her. 

That was okay. It was enough just to cling to him and know that he was there. 

The priest lit another candle, illuminating a circle of salt on the floor before them. "Step into the circle. Step over the edge." 

They moved as one, their bodies touching, staying close together for comfort. 

The priest raised his eyes and arms to the heavens. "Creator, two come before you who are on the verge of adulthood--- who seek to understand the mystery of their lives---" 

Maigrey couldn't concentrate on the words, couldn't think about much of anything except the fact that Derek, beside her, was in purest agony. The body near hers was a live wire. 

And there was nothing she could do for him. Nothing except stand there and let him know she was here.   
  


*****   
  


His father's hands--- hands that had been quick with blows or a whip--- drew back the cloth covering the altar. 

Sagan stared at the objects there, trying to focus, trying not to lose control. 

He'd destroyed his father's life. His very existence had been a punishment to the man who had given him that existence. 

There had been times in his childhood when he'd rather doubted he was worth it. 

Beside him, Maigrey trembled, bringing him back to reality. 

Maigrey. Maigrey needed him. _That_ was his purpose. His father hated him... but that wasn't why he existed. Maigrey was. 

The objects on the altar--- a wand, a ball, a pitcher, a brazier--- meant nothing to him. 

His father was speaking; the ritual words went past him as he tried to divine some sense of the man behind them. 

All he'd known of his father was silence and the back of a heavy hand. This was his only chance to know more. 

Because he'd never come back here again. _Never_. Maigrey didn't deserve to be subjected to this place, even vicariously. 

His father's voice was rusty from disuse, harsh and raw. His eyes focused on the altar, the candles, the heavens. 

Anywhere but on his son. 

Beside him Maigrey was silent--- scared as he was, perhaps. Which meant he was failing. He stroked a tendril of thought along her mind, and she leaned into it gratefully, as she'd clutched at his hand. 

Better. 

He snapped back to the ritual as his father picked up the wand. 

The rusty voice spoke. "Air. Breath of life--- wind of destruction." 

The strong hard hand moved the wand in a slow circle. 

A wind gathered itself about them, whipping their robes, setting the candles to flickering madly. It pulled at them, trying to draw them apart, stealing even their breath with its chill force--- 

_NO!_ Their thought came as one. He reached out, clasped her close in his arms and felt her own arms, strong for a girl's, wrap around his waist as she pressed herself against him. 

The wind changed direction now, whipping about them, drawing them close together--- wordless blessing on their union. He drew a deep breath, and another. She breathed easier too, nestled in his arms as the warm breeze cradled them as they turn held each other. 

He relaxed. She did. But they held tight to each other until the wind died. 

He let her go, slowly, half-afraid it would come back of a sudden and steal her from him. 

But it didn't. 

And his father gave no sign that he'd noticed. 

He stood near her, protective and protected, as his father raised the silver ball. "Earth--- matter. You can control matter." 

His father tossed the ball up in the air. It spun slowly, the light reflecting from it in a bizarre play of shadow... and slowly, a series of razor-sharp spikes extended from the ball, until it resembled nothing so much as a caltrop from hell. 

"Place your hands beneath the ball." His father's voice was dispassionate. 

Sagan stepped forward, between Maigrey and that object. He'd borne the brunt of his father's cruelty before this--- let _him_ be the one. 

His father's face showed no emotion. "Both of you." 

Maigrey stepped forward, seemingly unhesitant--- but Sagan saw the flicker of panic in her eyes. 

He'd die himself before he'd allow that thing to hurt her. 

They placed their hands beneath the ball, fingers touching, linking instinctively. Their minds webbed together likewise, without conscious intent. 

The globe started to fall--- 

The web of their minds caught it, held it firm. 

He sought Maigrey's eyes, found them: warm and bright with elation. A simple thing, really, compared to what they'd been trained to do--- but symbolic, and therefore powerful. 

His father's voice came again. "Though you can control matter with your mind, there are forces in the universe you cannot control. Then you must bear the pain they bring, mental and physical." 

_Mental and physical---_

In his memory, the whip came down--- and above it, the face of the man before him now. 

A man who had never once touched his son but to inflict pain. 

Sagan wanted to laugh. He stared at his father, challengingly. You know the pain I can bear--- you _watched_ me suffer for twelve years--- 

_Mental and physical---_

He'd rather die than let Maigrey suffer. 

She was staring at him oddly. He controlled himself, with an effort. 

"Such a force you will face now," his father said coldly. "The globe will drop. I cannot stop it. You cannot. Will you have the courage to catch it?" 

Across from him, Maigrey's face had gone ghost-white in the candlelight. She stared up at the ball in horrified fascination. 

If he'd needed any encouragement, that would have been enough. 

He'd catch it--- before those spikes could touch her fingers. 

And throw it back in his father's face. 

He drew his hands a little above Maigrey's. She wouldn't appreciate his help... but he couldn't not. 

What else could he do? 

The globe fell--- he started to raise his hands to protect hers--- 

The light from the candles shone through the spikes... that weren't there. 

Illusion. 

He let the ball drop. Into both their hands. 

Maigrey's eyes on his were wide with relief. Under the ball, her fingers trembled; he pressed them with his, gently, touched her mind with wordless comfort. 

She leaned into the caress--- his little wildcat. Safe. Untouched. 

Illusion. 

He drew a deep breath, then took the ball from her hands, set it wordlessly on the altar. 

His father held up the pitcher. "Water, from which comes life." 

He gestured peremptorily--- familiar motion!--- toward the two of them. "Cup your hands." 

They did. His father poured water into Sagan's hands. "Let your partner drink." 

_Partner_. It was the first time he'd ever thought of that word for Maigrey. He shot his father a surprised... and grateful... glance. 

He held his palms up to Maigrey's lips. She flicked a glance up at him, her eyes suspiciously bright, and lowered her face to his hands. 

He felt a strange thrill go through him as her lips brushed his palms---- pleasure, but not simply sexual. Rather, it was as if his whole world had narrowed to the site of contact. 

She lingered a moment over his hands, her lips touching his palms, then drew back. 

"What did you taste?" his father asked her. 

She gulped, threw Sagan a startled glance. His tipped her a tiny nod, brushed her mind with a thought--- _Say what you're thinking. It's all right._

She swallowed again. "H-honey mead." Her voice quivered a little with embarrassment. 

His father gave no reaction. "Cup your palms," he ordered her. She did as she was told, casting Sagan a flickering little glance. Her hands shook slightly as his father poured the water. 

She turned to Sagan without being told, held her hands up to him. 

Her eyes on his were bright, shining like twin stars. 

He cupped his hands around hers--- heard her indrawn breath--- and bent to drink. 

It was liquid lightning he tasted, sending a delicious tingling through his mouth and throat, stealing his breath. 

His lips touched her palms. Daring a break in the ritual, he kissed them. 

Her hands trembled in his; the tip of one finger stroked under his chin. 

He drew back--- back to reality as his father's voice asked harshly, "What did you taste?" 

Sagan choked on the words--- felt Maigrey's touch in his mind, gently amused... deeply delighted. _Say it. I did._

But it wasn't your father standing there, he thought but did not tell her. "Lightning," he said simply--- and felt Maigrey, so close beside him, tremble. 

His father lit the oil lamp. "Fire--- sustainer, destroyer." He gestured to the lamp. "Pass your hands through the flame." 

Maigrey glanced at him. _Derek--- _this_ can't be illusion---_

_I know._ So... the spiked ball hadn't destroyed either of them--- now it was fire. He stepped forward, cast his father a defiant glance--- and put his hand into the flame. 

The fire flickered, wrapped around his hand, filling the room with the smell of burned flesh. 

The pain was nothing. He'd had worse. Let _him_ bear the brunt of it. 

Maigrey clearly didn't agree. With a harsh cry she flung herself forward, reached her hand into the fire before he could stop her. 

Their fingers touched, then her hand clasped his. 

The fire died, leaving them both whole, undamaged. 

Sagan drew back, pulling her with him, sheltering her with his free arm. Maigrey stared at him... but didn't draw away. 

He met his father's eyes, waiting. Waiting for a word, a sign... some evidence of the man's reaction. 

His father stared back, impassive. But for the first time since the rite began, those eyes at least rested on his son. 

"I have received a sign from God," the priest said shortly. "You are to be taken into the Order as a warrior-priest---" 

_NO!_ The thought was Maigrey's, was his. He couldn't tell. 

Oh, dear God... how can You do this? 

To take him away from Maigrey... forever.... 

What was the purpose... of anything? 

He turned to his father, prepared to fight as he hadn't once fought in those dark and lonely years. Perhaps because he hadn't known there was anything worth fighting for. 

His father's next words killed Sagan's defiant cry. "You will swear no vows--- only an oath of fealty to God." Was it his imagination, or did his father's eyes flick to Maigrey and then back? 

It didn't matter. He wasn't going to lose her. 

"Do you accept?" His father's voice was cold, uncompromising. 

He reached out a mental hand to Maigrey, wordless question. 

And her wordless answer, astonishing him--- that she would support him whatever he chose. 

For a moment, he couldn't get a breath. Then, painfully conscious of his father's eyes on him--- "I accept." 

His father showed no reaction. "Kneel." 

Sagan dropped to his knees at his father's feet--- 

Flashback of so many other times he'd assumed that position; his father's hand upraised, the crack of a slap or the sharp sting of the lash--- 

He forced himself back to the present, forced himself to recite the words of the oath his father told him. Forced himself... as he so often had... not to tremble. 

And through it all, he could feel Maigrey's eyes on him, feel the warmth of her presence in the back of his mind. 

And, God help him, though he was supposed to care for _her_, he leaned his soul into the link and took selfish comfort from their closeness. 

And then it was over, and his father released him with a familiar curt gesture. He got to his feet, moved back to Maigrey's side. Where it was safe. 

His father's eyes flickered, moved to a distant point, someplace beyond this world. When he spoke, his voice was clear, smooth, but distant, abstracted. 

"Two together must walk the paths of darkness to reach the light." 

Maigrey's eyes on Sagan's were large and luminous in the candle flames for an instant. 

Then abruptly, the candles guttered out. 

In the darkness, they clung to one another. _Derek--- what's---_

_I don't know. I'm here._ The thoughts followed naturally on one another's heels. 

Then, as suddenly as they had gone out, the candles flickered back into life. 

They were alone in the candlelight, standing before an empty altar. Their clothes lay neatly folded before them, on the floor. 

_Derek---_ Maigrey's chill thin fingers curled around his wrist--- _what... what's happened?_

He shook his head. _The last... that was a prophecy. _Interesting. He'd never known that his precognitive gift came from his father. _As for the rest...._

_We're partners._ Her voice was definite. _That's what it means._

And she smiled. 

She wanted him. It was enough. 


	2. Rights

II. Rights   
  


It was ship's night by the time they got back to Derek's spaceplane. Maigrey, half in a fog, simply strapped into the copilot's chair and let Derek handle everything. 

Derek. Her _partner_. And _his father_ had said it. Which meant that Derek couldn't--- or at least wouldn't--- refuse. 

That was all she could think of. He was hers and she was his. 

The Jump jolted her out of her reverie. Derek was already unfastening his harness. She looked up at him. "Derek---" 

"I'm going above--- to think." Meaning, leave me the hell alone. And his mind was closed to her. 

She shuddered. So much for _partners_. 

She nodded dumbly. Sat shivering in the cockpit until she heard the water running in the shower. Sat some more until she heard it go off. Listened as he moved around in the living area. 

Probably going to sleep. Or at least to act like it. So she wouldn't bother him. 

She felt the tears start, and this time didn't bother fighting them. 

Damn him anyway. So much for _promises_. 

She sat there a long time in the cockpit, crying silently so as not to disturb him.   
  
  
  


****   
  
  
  


Sagan threw himself down on the bunk, shaking violently. 

He couldn't be near her. Not now. The memories were too close... especially with what he knew she'd want from him. 

God... not _that_. Not _now_. 

Not when he could practically _feel_ Castus' hot breath on the back of his neck and the man's horrid fleshy hands... rather lower.... 

God. _No_. He gagged, swallowed hard, grateful his stomach was empty. There'd been times in his childhood he'd been likewise grateful that he was half-starved: he'd never have kept anything down anyway. 

The worst of it was hearing the man's whispered voice in his head. 

_Good boy, Derek... that's a _good_ boy...._

It was the only time anyone had ever said that to him, in those dark and lonely years.... And for what? Only for the worst sin a man could commit. 

He'd been willing to make that trade, God help him--- his immortal soul for a few kind words and a semblance of care. 

If his father had known.... 

Dear _God_. The man had despised him enough when he considered the child merely a visible reminder of his own weakness. If he'd known that his illegitimate offspring had been practicing worse sins.... 

Sometimes Sagan had rather thought his father's disgrace was far too high a price for his own wretched existence. 

Until... Maigrey. His reason for living.... 

And he'd failed her. Left her alone in the cockpit--- after what they'd experienced tonight. 

Left her without what she'd wanted from him.... 

What she wanted... the same as Castus, when you got down to it. Except that with Maigrey he didn't feel... sick. Used. There was warm comfort and safety in her touch, along with the other feelings that he'd never quite understood.... 

She needed him. And what she needed, she would get, always. 

He started to get up--- and heard the water start in the shower. She'd come up while he wasn't paying attention. 

_God!_ Neglecting her so completely.... 

A waste, he was. An utter waste. 

He leaned his head against the wall and trembled, lost in misery.   
  


*****   
  


One of the nice things about spacecraft, Maigrey reflected, was that there was always plenty of hot water. The drives produced water as a by-product, and it was easy to heat that water by running it back past the engines and through a rad-scrubber. 

She took a long, hot shower, letting the water push the aches of out body and mind, then spent another long time sitting in front of one of the side viewports, getting her hair dry and brushed. Not that she was particularly vain about it--- it was just a nice, soothing, mindless activity. 

Just what she needed. She didn't especially want to think. 

The pilots' bunks were back past the shower, open-face. She started to head back down to the cockpit, not wanting to face him--- 

Something made her look back over her shoulder. 

Derek was sitting on his bunk, his profile toward her... his face a mask of pain. 

Her partner... was hurting. And hadn't come to her. 

Before tonight, she might have been hurt. Now all she wanted was to comfort him. 

If he could let her. 

She padded back toward the bunks. If he heard her, he gave no sign. 

She sat down on his bunk, across from him. "Derek?" _Derek?_

He blinked, shook his head... slowly, came back from whatever dark place he was in, his expression clearing slowly, as if the effort of normalcy pained him. "What is it?" 

Verbal speech only--- not the intimate mental touch she craved. She put a hand to his cheek; he shuddered, then accepted her touch, passively. "You tell me." 

He trembled then, violently. "Don't ask." Turning his head, he pulled away, sat staring at nothing. 

"I'm your partner--- it's my job." 

She felt him smile before she saw it. "You like that term, don't you?" 

"Yep--- at least, I like it for us." She drew a leg up to her chest, rested her chin on her knee, and regarded him. "I'd like to know what's wrong--- I'd like to---" she took a deep breath--- "catch a spiked ball for you." 

He twitched, visibly. "You saw that?" 

"I knew you'd want to." She took a deep breath. "Derek, if you're going to protect me, the least you can do is let me return the favor." 

He sighed, deeply, then turned back to her. "You already do." He cupped her chin in his hand, his fingers stroking the line of her jaw. "I couldn't have survived that, without you." 

She nodded slightly. "I think that's the point--- I couldn't have done it alone either." 

He shook his head. "Not the rite--- going back there." 

The monastery. Where he grew up. "Oh." 

"Yes, _oh._" His voice was savage; he took his hand away, roughly, turned his head. Then, softly, "I'm sorry." 

"Doesn't matter." It was okay if he needed privacy.... Anything was okay, as long as she had him. 

"Yes, it does." He looked back at her. "As you said, we're partners." 

The warmth in his eyes reminded her of what she'd dreamed this night would be. Her heart jumped painfully. "Then... don't you think you should keep your promise... to your partner?" 

The light in his eyes flared, became a devouring light. "Yes." His voice was hoarse, urgent. "Oh, yes." 

He leaned forward, and kissed her.   
  


*****   
  


After that first instant of mindless animal hunger, Sagan got control of himself. He drew back from her a little, resting his forehead against hers, stroking her soft pale hair. 

Her breath was sweet-hot against his face. "Derek---" It was almost a whine. 

_Shhhhh._ He drew a breath and another, until he was certain he'd mastered his own lust... enough to satisfy her desires. All of them. 

And then he put his arms around her and drew her gently down on the bed with him. 

Kissing was familiar territory for them, and for a long while he did that, covering her face with kisses while she leaned into his touch with soft little moans. Her skin was soft under his lips, and this time he indulged himself utterly in the feel of it, lost himself in the curve of her cheek, the hollows of her eyes and the soft flicker of her lashes against his lips, her breath warm on his face as she panted softly. 

She felt good to him; perhaps _that_ was the difference. Or perhaps it was simply that he _liked_ pleasing her. 

This time he left her hands free, and her slim strong arms snaked around his body, one pressing tight around his ribs while her other hand came up to tangle in his hair. She was fascinated with it--- was always teasing him, trying to get it out of the tail that kept it out of his way. 

Well, now it was safe to let her indulge... anything. Anything she wanted. He felt her clever little fingers work the thong loose and then she buried a hand in his hair and pressed her lips to his and held him to her while her tongue sought entry to his mouth. 

He opened to her and let her explore his mouth greedily while he tasted the sweet open warmth of her lips and caressed her tongue with his. He stroked her hair back from her face and she pressed against him and writhed in his arms and clung to him--- good God, to _him_--- like she was drowning. 

Dear God, he _needed_ this. Needed for a few moments to matter to her... to know that he could give her something... and, God help him, to make her _need_ him for something. Even if it was just for a little while. Even if it was just for this. He didn't expect anything else. 

She moaned against his mouth and cried out and pressed herself to him, rolling half on top of him and tugging at his shirt impatiently with her free hand. _Derek--- please--- oh, _please_---_

He broke the kiss, though it cut him inside to do it, and forced a soft laugh. _Easy, little wildcat. We have all the time in the world._ Time enough to please her completely... time enough to have, perhaps, a little comfort for himself beyond the mere physical gratification that meant so little to him in itself. 

She laughed breathily, ending on a little moan, and combed her fingers through his hair, stroking it back from his face. Her hands felt good against his scalp. _Promise?_

He kissed her forehead. _Promise._ And then he bent to kiss her in earnest again, stroking his lips down the smooth strong curve of her jaw to her throat. She moaned with it, both her hands in his hair this time, pressed his head to her. 

He brushed his lips down the sensitive curve of her neck to her collar--- where he usually stopped. 

And would this time, if she wanted. He opened a channel between their minds, letting her feelings wash over him--- 

White-hot tide--- excitement and lust and just the slightest thrill of fear that seemed to enhance the other feelings rather than bury them. Near-desperate, she was... God help him. 

And not a hint of reluctance. Oh, God, no. Anything but. 

He popped the first button on her collar, nuzzled gently at the hard ridge of her collarbone, soft, soft skin stretched tight over bone... and brought his hands around to stroke her sides and hips and back, the soft material of her shirt over the warmth of softer, smoother flesh. He kept his touch gentle and coaxing and rousing, following her nerve paths, letting himself drown in her experience of his touch through the mind-link. Her pleasure at the feel of him... her hunger for _more_. 

She needed him. Right now, she needed him. As much, perhaps, as he always needed her... if in a different form altogether. 

His hands slid her shirt up and down her back, leaving a bare expanse of skin at the base of her spine. Gently he traced a finger along skin he _knew_ was sensitive, was aching to be touched--- 

She jumped violently, then arched back into his hand... like a cat being petted. He chuckled softly, his lips against her shoulder. _My little wildcat._

_Yours. _Her tone was definite and desperate. She brought her hands around, set to work with clumsy haste on his shirt. 

He pushed back from her a little, startled at this sudden shift. _Maigrey--- you don't have to---_ No need, none at all, for her to... service him. He'd rather focus on her, if he had his choice. 

Safer, to simply join his mind with hers and find all her needs and meet them... and belong to her. Less frightening certainly than experiencing a kind of touch he couldn't really understand except through her mind and nerve paths. 

The only pleasure he'd learned from _that_ act was in the trade... a little time of being valued. The rest... had been too terribly confusing. 

Until Maigrey... who'd taught him the pleasures of touch. He was as much her student as she his in this for all he was older. 

She pushed back from him, her grey eyes clear and pleading on his. _But I want to---_ Flash of hot liquid ache from her mind and senses--- _Please?_

For a moment he could only tremble in disbelief. Dear God... she was _begging_ to touch him...? 

_All right._ He couldn't imagine answering her any other way. 

Her eyes lit like twin stars. _Thank you._

_Of course. _He stroked a strand of pale hair back from her face. 

Her hands were trembling on the buttons of his shirt--- but quick, urgent, as if this was something she'd wanted a long time. 

Strange thought, that. He'd always rather imagined that what she wanted from him was the pleasure of being touched, that all her eager caresses were more in the nature of an encouragement to him. 

An utterly unnecessary one. 

Quite disconcerting to think that she might find some delight in his body as well. 

She got the buttons undone, pushed his shirt off his shoulders almost angrily, fiercely. He got it the rest of the way off, tossed it aside before her warm little weight against him pressed him back on the bed. 

And then for a long time he lay still and passive under her touch and let her run eager, clumsy hands over him and leave warm wet trails with a hungry mouth. Her hands were sword-callused, the roughness of her fingertips and palms a lovely scratching on his skin, delightful counterpoint to her light soft touch. Her lips and tongue were soft, gentle, as she flickered little licking kisses over his skin, finding sensitive spots he didn't know he had. 

And he trembled--- inside, where she couldn't see. Because, God help him, it was _good_ to lie there with his mind blank and let her have him... good, for a little while, to feel like he might possibly matter. 

Because... he could come to need this. Oh, God... he could need this. Could need to be touched like this... something he had no right to, something utterly out of his control.... 

Her strong fingers kneaded tight muscles in his chest, languid firm rubbing, and he bit his lip against a cry. 

_Go ahead._ Her voice in his mind was shimmering with delight. _Let yourself go--- enjoy it. That's what I want._

He couldn't understand her... only that she was enjoying it, and that was what mattered. 

She must have caught some of that thought--- she chuckled wickedly. _Oh, really?_

Strong little fingers caught in the hairs on his chest, tangled--- pulled. "Ah!" His eyes, half-closed in pleasure, came open at the startling sensation. 

_Like that?_ Her eyes glinted teasingly. 

And for a second, his mind froze... because he _had._

Because the pleasure-pain was the most delicious thing she could do to him... something familiar enough that he could relax into it and take whatever she wanted to give without any uncertainty at all. 

_Do you?_ he asked back. 

And heard her soft laugh. _Oh, yes...._ And then her warm wet mouth clamped onto a nipple, lips and teeth stroking sensitive skin, while her fingernail scraped against its twin. 

Incredible sensation, that touch vibrating through the whole of his body--- the pleasure and pain mingling in a heady cocktail that set his head to spinning. 

She stopped before he'd had quite enough of that experience, her fingers tracing too-light teasing circles down his stomach, making his muscles twitch and clench involuntarily. Her mouth followed in her fingers' wake, warm and wet and soothing to overstimulated nerves.... 

Her fingers found his belt, started tugging. 

If he'd had any question as to her intentions, the white-hot picture in her thoughts answered it conclusively. 

And called up, quite without any volition on his part, another, darker picture from his memory--- 

He slammed his shields down before she could see any of _that_, felt the frightened hurt of her mind. _Derek---_

Which was all it took for him to banish that memory and get control of himself. He lowered his shields again--- 

Caught her hands and pulled her to him, tumbling her over onto her back beneath him. _Enough, little wildcat--- time enough for that later._ He lowered himself on top of her, resting his weight against her slender frame carefully. _Now it's my turn._

She was all warm soft curves and lean lithe muscle under him, her body molding itself to his in delighted abandon. He got her shirt off, and nearly fumbled her brassiere, and finally tore the clasp loose--- a moment of roughness that left him shaken and her thrilled--- and then bent to stroke her bare skin with mouth and hands, slowly at first, his lips and fingers barely touching the soft pale skin at all, his tongue flicking out to tease her ribs gently. 

She tangled her hands in his hair, pulled. _Please, Derek... _please.Little mocking laugh. _I did it for you._ Her thought was a pleading whine. 

He laughed softly. _Yes, my little wildcat... yes._ And brought his head up and brushed his lips gently over her nipples, one at a time, feeling soft nubbled flesh that hardened deliciously under his kisses. 

She cried out at that, and arched against his mouth... and it was really too simple a thing to take one small hard nub into his mouth. Different taste from the rest of her skin, this darker flesh, and the soft round yielding curve of her breast just beneath... a uniquely intimate sensation, at once wildly exciting and deeply soothing. He ran his tongue lightly over the very tip, where some instinct told him she'd be most sensitive. 

Her cries gave way to deep guttural moans at that, and she wound her fingers in his hair and held his head to her as he flicked his tongue softly over the soft-hard flesh, then nibbled gently, feeling the soft/hard nub yield just a little.... 

She screamed, then, and tore at his back with her nails, raking violently until he felt wet warmth and knew she'd drawn blood. 

And it was good, so good, to feel it--- at once familiar and strange, pain and warm human need--- and he cried out and arched into it, the sweet new marks over old scars that had never really healed... inside. 

Her shields were down now, and he lost himself in her feelings--- nerves stimulated, mind and body hungry for touch--- drank her pleasure to the dregs and looked desperately for ways to give her more. 

Because this moment was everything he needed in the world. His existence had narrowed to her voice and her flesh and her mind. And she... she was delighted with him, her thoughts all animal-innocent pleasure at his stroking and teasing, his mouth and hands and the weight of him on her. 

_What do you feel?_ she asked, her thoughts hot-hungry urgency. _Let me feel you---_

She had asked. How could he refuse? 

And he opened his mind to her and let her feel the delight she brought him, the deep warm pleasure of _touching_ her so completely. The feel of her skin, the different tastes and textures of her and what they did to him. And she leaned into it and pressed herself against him--- _Here, touch me, take me, all of me_, her thoughts a breathless cry--- as her pleasure fed a deep hunger within him and woke him to a level of passion he hadn't know he could feel. 

And riding on that tide of shared sensation and delight, he slid his hands down her legs, still chastely clad, and rubbed the long lean muscles of her thighs. Hard muscle, yes... but also soft flesh and skin more sensitive than he'd have thought, feeling her pleasure ricochet through his mind and nerves. 

Her hands traced a matching pattern down his legs... then back up to knead his buttocks in a rhythm unexpectedly stimulating--- 

Responding perhaps to his pleasure or her own earlier desires, she ran her hands around his waist to his belt, tugging urgently, clumsily--- 

And though it sent a violent pang of regret through him to lessen this delicious circuit of pleasure, he broke off a little ways and helped her with the buckle when her shaking slim hands couldn't manage, and let her push his pants down his hips. 

He kicked them aside, impatiently... and with a shock that nearly killed his desire, he realized he was naked and vulnerable in front of her, as he'd never been with anyone since he could remember. Even as a child, he'd somehow managed that slight vestige of human dignity that some covering provided. 

Or perhaps Castus had simply found it more convenient to leave him clothed. 

Now, though, he was bare to her eyes and hands, utterly exposed. He wanted to die of shame. 

But her eyes on him were wide and awed and delighted. She looked him up and down slowly, once and once again. Traced her eyes over him as if finding every line of his body. Her expression and her thoughts were a kind of utter innocent pleasure that he hadn't imagined existed. 

_Oh, Derek._ Her thought was a soft murmur, wondering and utterly delighted. _Oh, _Derek_...._ Then, shyly, _I'm almost drunk on this._

And hesitantly, she reached out a hand and rested it on his chest... then stroked one finger gently down to his navel. 

He shivered at the caress, feeling his body warm to her touch... and to the sensual joyful heat in her mind. 

She was pleased with him. That was what mattered. 

He caught her hand, pressed it flat against his stomach... then let go. _Enjoy_..._ do what you like._

And for the second time, he let her touch as she would and lay passive under her cool and soothing hands. She traced shy uncertain patterns on his thighs, teasing him with promises. He groaned with it, unable to swallow the cry. 

And her mind flared with pleasure at his voice, her thought touched his. _Is this... what you want?_

The words startled him; not a question he could remember being asked, not really. He gave her the only answer he could think of. _If you're enjoying it._

She raised her head to look at him, her hair falling half over her face... then, slowly, deliberately, moved her hands between his legs. 

He cried out in astonished shock at the intense and localized pleasure, her cool fingers on his flesh that seemed to burn with need. He was hard now, all embarrassment and fear forgotten in elemental arousal and anticipation of what she'd do next. 

She caressed his erection in long firm strokes, almost a massage, then moved one hand higher, explored further. She stroked a finger up a hard ridge of muscle and he nearly lost control right then. "_Unh---_" 

She drew back, laughing softly. _Good?_

The only answer he could manage was another groan. 

And then her hands were on him again, stroking and teasing and probing until he was mindless with an animal pleasure he had never imagined he could feel. He lost all sense of specificity, only the awareness of aching arousal and the promise of satisfaction.... 

One of those welcome cool hands left him, and he bit back a cry of anguish--- looked up to see her struggling impatiently one-handed with the snap-closure of her pants. 

That brought him back, to himself... and to her. To his responsibility... his purpose--- and the pleasure it brought, a selfless and therefore guiltless enjoyment in _her_ pleasure. _Here, little wildcat,_ he said gently, taking her hand in one of his--- and resisting firmly the temptation to guide it back to his own hard hot ache--- _let me do that._

He needn't have worried; the minute he released her hand so that he could begin dealing with her belt, her lovely strong fingers resumed their intimate stroking. He got the waistband of her pants open and eased them down over her hips, slowly, his fingers trailing along her hips and buttocks and thighs, luxuriating in the curves of cool skin and the long lean lines of muscles that rippled with pleasure under his caress. She shuddered violently, and her caressing hands on his erection jerked spasmodically--- a jolt of pleasure-pain he hadn't expected and which nearly drove him to forget what she was due from him. 

But he lifted her gently and got her out of her pants and her underwear--- both of which she kicked aside with a violent urgent motion. And she rolled onto her back in an abject and eager display, and looked up at him, eyes all languid heat. 

_What do you think?_ So much packed into that one question--- she needed so much for him to take her seriously.... 

So he did. He looked her up and down, from slim long legs and lean hips--- flicked his eyes carefully over the soft inviting patch of hair between her thighs--- up along her belly to the twin soft curves of her breasts... her lovely long neck... finally to the proud lift of her chin and her deep grey eyes. 

_Beautiful_. _He _had known all along what he would say... but she thrilled to hear it, wriggled all over and scissored her legs... most invitingly. 

_Oh, Derek... _touch _me. Please... everywhere.... _

So he did--- for long moments stroked his hands up and down her sides and her breasts, territory by now warmly familiar and sensitized to his touch... then down those long and lovely legs, tracing the lines of muscle that spasmed eagerly under his fingers... then back up the insides of her thighs, smooth flesh that no one's hands but her own had ever touched before. 

He saw that in her mind, even as he felt her nerves crackle under his slow, featherlight touch, felt her respond to him with utter abandoned anticipation.

And he knew then that she had expected this, from the time she'd begun to feel the first stirrings of adult desires--- not merely expected it, but schooled herself to him--- had wanted no one but him and had prepared her body to respond to his touch and no other. 

The weight of it overwhelmed him, nearly drove him mad with shock and longing. She had made her body his, completely, not merely saved herself for him, but had wrapped all her desires around the desire for him. 

Her thought came to him, a little shy, but mostly lost in arousal. _Of course,_ she sent on a wave of sensuous heat, _who else would I want? Who else could give me what I want... and need?_

Which was, of course, his purpose. 

That shock--- that she accepted him, wanted him... would _be_his purpose--- was enough to break the last of his barriers, so that their minds joined in a close ecstatic union as their bodies wanted to and each knew what the other felt... so that he _knew_, intimately, just what his touch did to her.... 

Drove her mad. 

Maigrey arched desperately under Derek's too-gentle touch and cried aloud. "Ohhhhhh---" 

_Hush, little wildcat._ He rubbed her thighs gently, strong callused hands tracing up and down skin that was only too ready to respond--- 

God help her. She could hardly _think_. Not that she wanted to. This was what she'd wanted for so long--- 

Except when it wasn't. All her fantasies involved something a lot more violent, rougher and more urgent, where she made him lose that interminable self-control until he could only _take_her.... 

Then his hand moved between her thighs, and all notions of what she'd _thought_ she wanted went out the window. 

_Oh... Derek...._ He was stroking the entrance to her body, his callused fingers light and gentle, just toying with the folds of skin. 

She couldn't count how many times she'd touched herself that way and imagined him _deep_ inside her and thrusting.... 

His finger rubbed against that especially sensitive spot, just a casual brush--- 

She couldn't help it: she screamed and pushed up against him, rocking in a desperate rhythm against his touch. 

He stroked her again, almost teasing; she reached up and clawed at him, raking his back with her nails--- delicious guilty pleasure, that, to hurt him and have him _take_ it, to get inside him.... 

_Oh Derek don't tease me---_ It was so good... to have his hand there, to feel the pleasure and know it was him giving it to her.... 

She felt his hand slide under her hips, his fingers kneading at her back in a gentle motion that eased some of that unbearable longing... at least a little... while with his other hand he sent explosive waves of delight through her whole body. She pushed against him and screamed helplessly, voice and mind--- 

_Please, more?_ The thought of welcoming him into her body as he was in her mind was unbearably sensuous... to say nothing of the pure physical pleasure of the act itself.... 

_Yes, little wildcat._ And, ever so gently, he slid his finger up inside her. 

She nearly climaxed right then, the violent surge of pleasure-pain he sent through her almost driving her over the edge altogether. It was a strange sensation, at once invasion and offering, and she wanted to draw him down deep inside her and feel that touch all through her.... 

And she rocked against him hard and pressed that sensitive spot against his hand while he explored her with a methodical thoroughness so good to feel that it _hurt_--- 

She was going to climax, she couldn't help it, and oh, God, this wasn't how she wanted it--- 

_No, Derek, no, not yet--- please, I want you inside me---_

And oh, she did, wanted to feel him thrust deep within her and wanted to make him cry her name while she claimed him. 

_Not yet, little wildcat---_ And he took his finger away and crushed her against him, warm hungry embrace that left her aching for penetration but satisfied a deeper need. They tangled together desperately and she lost herself in the all-over sensuous pleasure of his strong arms around her and the soft coarse hair on his chest brushing against her aching-hard nipples, and best of all his hard thick erection prodding between her thighs. She spread her legs against him and writhed, as much for the pleasure of feeling him all along her as to stimulate him. So good, God, so _good...._

Their minds were as close-intimate as their bodies and it was easy to feel what he wanted.... 

_You like that?_ she asked him, wondering... even as she drew her nails down his back in a brutal caress. 

And felt the dizzy heat of his mind as he answered only, _Yes._

And opened himself to her and let her for the first time _feel_ his pleasure. 

Feel the white-hot hunger she roused in him and the deeper, all-consuming delight of touching her, looking at her... and feeling her respond to him.... 

Which was all she wanted... and all she could want in return from him.... 

So she gave vent to her own hungry need and tore at his flesh and got inside him... while his strong hands came down to knead her buttocks, hard steady rhythm that sent deep warm waves of pleasure through her. 

And he turned his head and buried his lips against her neck, his breath warm on her skin, his mouth kneading sensitive nerves until she was whining in pleasure. She scraped at his back and tangled one hand in his long thick hair--- deep innocent pleasure that!--- to hold him to her. 

He rocked against her in a steady insistent rhythm, his hard hot erection pushing urgently at the entrance to her body... rubbing against the sensitive spot as his finger had... only better... because this way she could have his satisfaction and hers at once.... 

_Derek, please, now?_ She was reduced to whining, sobbing as she pushed herself against him and met his rhythm with her own. 

_Yes, my little wildcat... yes, now._ He pushed back from her, leaning over her, his long hair hanging into her face--- delicious caress in itself!--- and knelt between her legs. 

For a moment, he paused there, looking down at her, while she gazed up into his eyes and thought that this moment, of anticipation and pleasure, was heaven itself. This moment, when he looked at her as if she were the most precious thing in the galaxy--- 

_My little wildcat... of course you are._ He stroked her cheek with a gentle hand... then drew back.... 

The first gentle nudge of his erection brought a shockwave of pleasure, the feel him of him at the entrance to her body, that slight insistent pushing.... She started to rock against him, to take him deeper--- 

_No, little wildcat._ He rested a warm heavy hand on her belly, pushed her hips flat against the bed. _Easy... easy...._

She arched up to him, writhing helplessly while he slowly, slowly eased himself a little way into her. 

This was delicious, this stretching sensation, somewhere on the border between pain and pleasure, intensely stimulating. She felt a wave of languid heat wash over her, drowning her in delight. 

He drew out of her--- she cried out, and he bent to kiss her open mouth... even as he slid into her again, a little further this time. 

That was even better, to have the _feel_ of him in her, his long hard erection sliding into her, almost too large for her... which was perfect, really, the pain and the pleasure mingling to drive her wild. 

_Please, Derek... I want everything---_

But he ignored her, moving slowly back and forth, rocking his way into her, slowly and gently, until she wanted to scream--- 

And then he hit a barrier inside, a place that wouldn't yield, and she was suddenly grateful that he'd been so gentle... because this _hurt._ Really hurt, not the pleasure-pain. She bit her lip on a yelp. 

_Shhhh, little wildcat--- easy---_ His hand on her stomach kneaded the suddenly-taut muscles. _Relax... just relax...._

It was habit to trust him... and the warm solid strength of his body both aroused her and soothed her... so that she lay back under him and let her body go limp, inside and out. 

And he moved against her, slowly, just a slight rocking motion, until the barrier inside her gave way with a little sharp ache--- 

He rocked against her for another moment, slowly--- then drew out--- 

Before she could even form a protest in her mind, he eased himself into her, still slowly, but this time certain and steady, until he was firmly against her. 

She cried out, a little gasping sob, and twined her arms and legs around him and felt him, deep within her, that large hot hardness seeming to touch every part of her. 

And she had him, oh God she _had_ him, possessed him and claimed him as she'd always dreamed of doing.... She clasped him to her, arms and legs, and tightened her inner muscles around his erection until he groaned aloud. 

And then he pushed her back a little ways, and she thought she'd upset him... but it was only so that he could move inside her, drawing back and thrusting into her in a slow teasing rhythm.... 

He let her rock against him, though he held her hips down so she couldn't arch. And he moved against her slow and hard, each thrust bringing him firmly against her, pushing against that sensitive little spot above the entrance to her body--- 

It sent a shockwave of pleasure vibrating through her every time he did that, so that she cried out and tried to press against him, and rocked and pleaded with him for more.... 

He upped the pace, slowly, agonizingly, and clasped her close and held her so she could bury her face in his shoulder--- comfort and pleasure at once--- even as his lips brushed her temple. She parted her lips on his neck and suckled, denied any other outlet for the violent part of her need--- 

Until she couldn't bear it anymore. _Damn you!---_ and sunk her teeth into his collarbone 

Thought the link, she felt the sudden shockwave of delightful agony it sent through him--- felt it shatter the last of his self-control--- 

He thrust into her, hard and abandoned, and let her arch up to him as she pleased. Her whole world narrowed to that hot silky hardness driving into her--- just like she'd dreamed, his control gone completely, only better, because she herself was more than ready, more than desperate, was nothing but hot slick aching need for his thrusts--- 

And the pleasure, the ball of lightning inside her, was building itself to a thunderbolt, an ecstatic violent languor that felt as if every nerve would explode--- 

And they did. The climax rippled through her and she spasmed violently and shrieked... and felt him spend his own climax inside her, drawing out the last of her own ecstasy with his. 

And then they lay collapsed together in a sweaty tangle of arms and legs. 

She shuddered and trembled under him, every muscle in her body twitching in the aftermath of ecstatic release. She never wanted to move again.... 

As if in answer to her thought, Derek's mind touched hers. _I may never move again._

His words sent a wave of quiet euphoria--- counterpoint to their moment of ecstasy--- through her, and she marshaled her strength and managed to hug him close. _I never want you to._

He chuckled gently, brushed his mouth over her temple, and touched her mind just as softly. _My little wildcat... did I keep my promise to your satisfaction?_

She laughed aloud, feeling giddy-drunk with repletion. _You know you did_. She felt her face flush as she realized the other side of that question. _What about you? Was I--- did I---_

_You were perfect, little wildcat. Just what I needed._ His thoughts radiated the same kind of rich warm satiation she felt. 

She moaned softly, his words touching her and exciting her deep inside. She ran her tongue lightly over his throat, his shoulder--- 

Tasted blood where she'd bitten him._ I'm sorry._

_Eh?_ Mental flicker of amusement. _That? Don't be sorry._

And, under the sharp words, memory-flash of how much he'd liked it. Good. 

She nestled underneath him, loving the warm bulk of him on top of her, the way his weight pinned and held and cradled her... the way the joining of their bodies felt, for once as close physically as mentally. 

On that thought--- he started to roll off her. She hugged him close, arms and legs, preventing him. 

He raised himself up on his elbows, looked down at her. _I don't want to crush you---_

_You're not. It feels good. And I don't want to lose---_ She let him feel her sense of their bodies joined together, the subtle lingering stimulation it gave her. 

He chuckled, voice and mind. _All right, little wildcat---_And he rolled them over, holding her close, keeping them locked together as he brought her to rest on top of him. 

She pressed her cheek against his chest, rubbed against him a little, loving the feel of the coarse black hairs against her still-sensitive nipples. He groaned softly, his hand stroking the tangle of her hair up and down her back. 

_Oh, good---_ A second round. She tightened her hold on him... in all senses. 

He gasped. _Not yet, my little wildcat... just... give me a minute...._

She eased off at once, settled back onto his chest and forced herself to take deep slow breaths while he held her and did the same. It was enough for the moment to feel him inside her and to press herself to him and be cuddled.... 

A thought occurred to her. _"Little wildcat"--- you haven't called me that in years._

He brushed his lips over her forehead. _Pet names are for children... or adults. Not someone in-between._

She understood his words... and what the words meant, what he couldn't say. The waiting had been hard for him too, then. 

Their minds were still tangled up in each other enough that he caught that thought and laughed. _Oh, most assuredly. And you---_ a gentle nip on her earlobe--- _didn't make it easy, little wildcat._

She smiled up at him. _I didn't want to._

_I know._ Another gentle kiss to her forehead, soothing now rather than teasing. _It was better to wait. _

No point in arguing, now that she'd gotten what she wanted. _I don't see how anything could have been better than tonight._

He laughed, softly. _That was only our first try, little wildcat._

The warm physical joining between them suddenly felt white-hot. _Practice makes perfect, doesn't it, Derek?_

And so they did.   
  


*****   
  
  
  


It was two more times and nearly ship's morning before Maigrey fell asleep, curled up with her back against his body... just like she'd done as a child. 

A child. Sagan stroked the lovely sweep of her hip and side, ran teasing fingertips over her the small high curves of her breasts, like perfectly carved marble and rubies. Not a child any longer. She'd damn near shocked him once or twice. 

Not that the acts themselves had shocked him--- he'd been past sexual shock at an age when most children still found kissing repulsive. But that she would _want_ to perform those acts... _that_ shocked him. He hadn't imagined such things could be enjoyed for themselves. 

But whatever Maigrey wanted, she got. Always. That was the bargain he'd made with his life. After all, she'd given him everything that he had in that life. 

A child.... His thoughts faded back--- not to the darkness and pain of the monastery, but the time after that and before her. 

The Academy. An academically challenging dumping ground for the children of the Blood Royal. That was all it really was. 

Not that his classmates had cared. Most of them were simply glad to escape from the confines of their families... with far less cause than he had. 

But unlike those over-pampered little creatures--- all of whom could expect to inherit something of value from those families... he had nothing to look forward to. His life had left him essentially fit for nothing except a return to the darkness and cold of the monastery. He'd considered his time at the Academy in the nature of a respite... a time when he wasn't hungry or cold or hurting. Just... nothing. Empty. 

And then... Maigrey. 

He'd never tried to sort out exactly what she meant to him; impossible really, with no other guideposts, no standard for that meaning: there was no one else in his life. 

That night when she'd snuck in his window and climbed into his lap had given him a purpose. 

Before, he'd thought only that his existence was simply a horrid mistake, some kind of Divine oversight... or a punishment to his father. Nothing more. A complete waste, really, now that he'd served his purpose of being his father's penance, bringing the shame of the man's sin to light. 

He'd often rather wished that God would simply let him die. And wondered why not. 

Until a lonely little girl found her way into his arms and his mind and his heart. 

And he knew then. Maigrey... who was as different in her own way from the rest of the Blood Royal as he. Who was used to having love, in great quantity... and whose need for that love could put her at risk for the same kind of sin _he'd_ committed. 

That was what he was for. To give her the love she needed, to protect her and cherish her and give her all that he was. 

And in return... he could belong to someone. He could have a purpose, after all, and a little warmth and care. He hadn't even known what those were. 

The first night she'd stayed with him--- curled up in his arms like a kitten--- was the first night he could remember when he didn't have nightmares. 

That alone would have been enough to merit his devotion. 

As for the rest... she was his life, pure and simple. It was for her he'd started his career in the Navy: Maigrey wanted to be a pilot; Maigrey should therefore have the chance to fly--- with the whole galaxy as her playground. 

As for the other... what _else_ she'd asked of him, as she went from child to woman... that was only more of the same. For her. All for her. She needed it, and he could give her what she needed, without hurting her. 

And he'd never really expected to enjoy satisfying someone's... need. That was another gift she'd given him. 

Maigrey stirred in her sleep, nestling back against him and whimpering softly. Automatically, he put an arm over her, to protect her. 

At once, she quieted, curled close and pulled his arm to her like a warm blanket. 

He sighed in deep contentment and lay down next to her, drew her back into his arms. 

She was pleased with him. All was as it should be. 


End file.
